


The Game

by gillie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillie/pseuds/gillie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Neverland (post "Ariel")</p>
<p>What if Pan wasn't Rumple's father and things on Neverland played out very differently? This picks up directly after the events of Ariel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hook sat down with a heavy sigh on a storm-felled log and took another draught from his flask, mentally calculating how best to ration his rum. It’s not like he could make a run for the Jolly Roger and risk being permanently separated from Emma and her family simply to refill his bloody flask.  One-handed pirate with a drinking problem indeed. Ultimately, he needed a clear head. As bad as things were now, they could (would) surely get worse. With Pan, things inevitably got worse. That was his game, winner takes all. This time, Hook feared, Pan would truly take everything.

His dark thoughts were interrupted as David wandered over into his personal space, grabbed the flask, and drank liberally from Hook’s dwindling supply.

“I gather the Missus wasn’t very happy about your ablutions in there, mate.”

“That’s putting it mildly, “ said David ruefully as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and handed the flask back to Hook. “I’m beginning to think death might have been preferable to dealing with the wrath of Snow White.”

“Aye, it might have been at that. Would it help if I said I told you so?” Hook smirked, feeling rather smug. David grudgingly laughed, albeit without mirth.

“Would it help if decked you for kissing my daughter?”

“Oi, mate! She kissed me first. That girl of yours has fire, that’s for certain. I don’t know what the lass’s intentions were, but I can assure you, mine are honorable. Mostly.”

The two men regarded each other for a moment, and Hook wondered at what point David would concede that they had become friends. Hook worried his thumbnail with his teeth, then broke the increasingly awkward silence. “So. What next? Does your darling daughter have a cunning exit plan now that her Neal is back by her side?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. Neal was already asleep when I left. And between Mary Margaret and Emma, you’re the only one still speaking to me.”

“I am at that, Dave. But we can’t let Pan continue to conquer and divide us. We’ve already lost the two best chances we had at getting home in Regina and Gold. No time to lick our wounds, so to speak. We’re duty bound to remove Henry from Pan’s grasp before he’s well and truly lost.” Hook clasped Charming on the shoulder and pointed him back toward the jungle clearing they currently called home.

Emma looked up as she heard her father and Hook walk back to join the group. She searched Hook’s eyes for...something. He gave her a sad smile as he mock bowed.

“We’re at your service, Savior. What’s the plan?”

Emma scrubbed her hands over her eyes, her exhaustion obvious. “Sleep, I guess. We’re no good going after Henry like this. Neal passed out nearly an hour ago.  Mary Margaret not long after.”

David looked longingly at his wife, wondering if she’d welcome or spurn his presence, even in her sleep. He brushed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “Time to face the music, I guess. Goodnight.”

Hook raised his flask in salute as David headed toward his shared bedroll with Snow. “Courage, mate.” He then tucked his flask back into the deep pocket of his long leather coat, turning his attention to the dwindling supply of firewood. Neverland had plenty of wood on offer, but it never seemed to burn for long. Sweltering hot by day, cold and damp by night, a never-ending cycle of miserable conditions, custom-ordered by Pan himself.

“You should get some kip yourself, love,” Hook said to Emma over his shoulder as he crouched before the fire to build it up for the night.  

“Honestly? I’m not sure I could sleep if my life depended upon it right now. I’ll take first watch.”

“Make that two of us taking first watch, then.”

Hook sat down in amiable silence beside her, the two of them just watching the fire dance on its embers for a while. Emma was grateful for the silence, truth be told. Too many words today hung around her neck like a noose. She had no idea what to do with her parents’ confessions, nor what to do with one Killian Jones’ declaration of love. Or the clusterfuck that was Neal Cassidy, currently snoring like a buzz saw. She was tempted to walk over and nudge him with her boot so he'd quiet down.  Focus. She needed to focus on the mission. None of this emotional BS was getting her any closer to rescuing Henry. And with Regina now gone with the enchanted mirror, she couldn’t even look in on her son to know if he was OK. Seeing him, speaking with him earlier, had somehow made it that much worse. Henry was close,  so frustratingly close, and yet, she was certain they were no closer to a rescue than they were the minute they stepped foot on this damn island.

Emma shuddered, a sudden chill running through her as she yawned. Wordlessly, Hook put his arm around her, and she nestled closer than was probably prudent. But Hook was warm, and she felt more relaxed than she had in days. And as much as she hated to admit, there wasn’t a soul on the island who made her feel safer, not even her own parents.

\---

Neal tossed and turned, consumed with feverish dreams. He was back in his cage, while Lost Boys taunted him, throwing pebbles and the occasional apple core at him.

_“Bael-fire! Bael-fire! Bael-fire!”_

_There was someone in the cage beside him, dark, so dark, he could barely see, but he knew it was a woman. And she needed his help, she needed his...magic? Only his father’s dagger would open the lock, and rescue Henry, and they could all go home, he just had to follow the Shadow, it would show him the way…_

Neal gasped and sat bolt upright, sweat running down his brow. He shivered as the slight breeze chilled his damp skin. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Neverland. But not with Pan. Emma--was apparently asleep and snoring softly, her head lolling on Hook’s shoulder.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, mate,” said Hook as he gently extricated himself from Emma’s sleeping form, leaving her to rest on the moss-covered log. “I imagine you have quite the tale to tell, seeing as Emma saw you die in Storybrooke.”

Neal shook his head in frustration. “God, why does everybody think I’m dead? Yeah, I was shot, but I fell into the Enchanted Forest. Mulan saved my life, I returned to my father’s castle to look for a way back, and found my way here.

“Is that so, mate? Rather convenient story, that.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You can ask the human lie-detector herself when she wakes up. The better question is, what are YOU doing here, Hook? You’re suddenly besties with Emma and her parents after trying to destroy Storybrooke with Mendel and my fiancee? What's your angle?”

“Baelfi...Neal, I’m here for what I assume is the same reason you are. To reunite Emma with her son. No child should be left without a family. You should know that better than anyone.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you, Jones. Seeing as you’re the one who destroyed my family and then left me with HIM.”

Hook sighed heavily, the guilt of leaving the young Bae behind still an active weight upon his conscience. “We’ve been through this already, a lifetime ago. As much as I’d like, I can’t unmake what’s past. But we’re on the same side, mate. Aye, I know you won’t believe me, but that’s never changed. Not when it comes to you. And I won’t leave another boy to the machinations of Pan. The cycle bloody well ends here.”

“It better,” stated Neal darkly, before settling back down in hopes of grabbing another hour’s sleep.

  
Hook returned to where Emma as sleeping, and sat down on the ground, his back against the log. His fingers longed to ghost over her hair, to brush away the lock that had fallen like a curtain over her eyes. Even in sleep, the lass looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. He’d give his other hand to take away her burden and see her smile again. He continued to stare at the flames, not really seeing them, until sleep finally took him as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Rumple sat cross-legged outside the tavern, his head lolling against the wall by the main door. The place stank of ale and sweaty men and some smell his young nose couldn’t define. He was watching the waxing moon with keen interest. When it reaches just past that tree across the way, if he hasn’t come out yet, I’m leaving. I really am this time, he told himself. Not twenty minutes later, the moon was shining brightly over the designated landmark, and Rumple stood as if to go. He hesitated for a moment before sighing deeply and going inside the dank building. Just like he did every night for the past two months. 

The barkeep nodded an acknowledgement as the boy cast his eyes around the crowded room, looking for his wayward father. “So, you came to fetch him home again, eh, laddie? He’s back in the corner with Cas, I think. I reckon he won’t go quietly. Malcolm!” he hollered. “Oi, Malcolm! Your boy is here to pay for your ale and take you home, ya drunkard.” 

A glassy-eyed man sat slumped in the corner, pawing ineffectively at a woman attractive enough to not be there purely for the company. “Pay the good man, laddie, and get thee home again. I have unfinished business here, boy.”

Rumple looked at his father with something like disgust. “What business could you possibly have with that woman, Papa?

Malcolm stood unsteadily, slurring his words, “Thish one says she’ll tell me m’ future. We’ll find our fortune thish time. Don’t you doubt it, dearie. Now get thee home, Rumple! I have...work to do.” The man started to giggle, a disconcerting, almost maniacal sound. 

The boy turned beet red, his anger apparent to anyone sober enough to notice. “It’ll suit you right if she picks your pocket and leaves you in a puddle of your own vomit.” He tossed a small purse of coins to the barkeep, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the tavern. He could hear a wave of laughter erupt behind him. His eyes stung from tears, but he didn’t care, wiping them away with the back of his sleeve as he ran back to the run-down sheep shed his father and he let from three aging spinsters. 

\--

Cas took Malcolm’s hand, leading him to the back stairs. There were cheers and cat calls, and Malcolm saluted them with the tankard he still clung to for dear life. He looked sadly at the bit of ale that sloshed out onto his already-filthy breeches and boots. The woman tugged his hand a bit more insistently and he dutifully followed. 

Her chamber was tiny, barely room for a bed and a small wash table. Malcolm had a wicked gleam in his eye as he sat heavily upon the bed and gave his lap a few pats in invitation. Cas pointedly ignored him as she fumbled through her satchel looking for something. “What’s in there, lassie? A bit of brew, I bet, to top us off for the evening.” She shushed him, and went back to her search, finally finding a heavy amulet with a dark green stone. She knelt before Malcolm, ignoring the lurid look on his face, and placed the amulet in his hands. 

“You say you want your fortune told. So--close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

The man giggled again, then closed his eyes, his fingers closing around the amulet greedily. A rush of confused images and sounds startled him so much he dropped the amulet on the floor. 

“What...what was that, lassie?”

She picked up the fallen amulet and placed it back in his hands. “Your future, Malcolm. Now, close your eyes, and this time concentrate. The visions will become clear.” She put her hand over his, trying to help the drunken man find something resembling focus. 

“I see...I see a spinning wheel spinning straw to gold, m’laddie, my Rumple, spinning, spinning…”

Malcolm’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he promptly passed out. 

Cas pried the amulet from the snoring man’s fingers. She hated how he stank, and more, how she’d have to spend another night with him if she wanted to pass this last test and become a proper seer. It certainly wasn’t her fault it if the daft simpleton before her couldn’t hold his alcohol. She prayed the Shadow wouldn’t be angry.

\---

The next morning, Malcolm found himself slumped against a stone wall not far from the tavern. The sun was entirely too bright and he felt like he had been bested by an ogre or three. He staggered back to the farmstead he and his boy currently called home. He found Rumple with two of the sisters, spinning on his very own wheel. 

“Cor, look at the boy child. I’ve never seen talent like that in one so young. Mark my words, he’ll be spinning for royalty some day.”

Rumple’s face brightened at the praise, something he’d heard so little in his young life. 

“Spinning for royalty?” Malcolm’s face lit up, an idea forming. “D’you think he could spin straw into gold?” 

The sisters looked knowingly at each other, before turning back to the hung-over man. “As if this wee bairn was magic. Why, there’s as much magic in this boy as there is in the two of us,” the two women cackled.

Malcolm looked disappointed. He had no idea where the thought had even come from, but he felt it was something he knew, he knew, if he could just put his finger on where. 

The elder sister rose from her spinning wheel, and knelt down before Rumple’s handwork. “Aye, the lad has talent. If only somebody knew, someone with money, we could all feast tonight.”

“Roast swan and new potatoes, a tankard of ale,” the younger sister continued, “such a pity there’s no one to fetch the bar keeper here. I heard tell he wanted the finest wool for a new cloak. The boy child’s spinning is practically worth its weight in gold.”

Malcolm’s face grew ugly with the effort of forming an idea. “I...I could fetch him, ladies, and we can all feast tonight. Keep spinnin’, dearie! We’ll make our fortune yet!” The man practically ran back down the road toward the village, his greed overcoming the pounding in his head. Cas was waiting for him, outside the tavern. “Follow me,” she commanded. “We’re not done yet.”

 

Rumple continued to spin as his papa had instructed. He was over the moon that he had pleased the man. He hadn’t seen his father smile like that since his mother had died two years ago. If he could truly sell his thread, if it was fine as the sisters insisted it was, they could make their way to a new land, somewhere with a hearth, that didn’t stink of sheep and muck. 

“Rumplestiltskin!” the sisters intoned, “it is said that spinning can sometimes bring a vision. Tell us, Rumplestiltskin, what do you see?”

The boy focused on his wheel, on the repetitive motion of his hands over the spindle, of his foot keeping time on the pedal to music only the best spinners ever heard. “I see...a boy. A green boy in the forest. A boy who is lonely like I am. Whose mother is gone, like mine. He wants to play games. I think...I think he wants me to fly.” 

The sisters nodded to themselves, their wrinkled faces and overly-bright blue eyes mirroring a very satisfied look. “Aye, laddie. We see him, too.”

 

Malcolm found himself back in Cas’ room, the original reason for his visit long-since forgotten. The young woman wordlessly eased the man back onto the edge of the bed, and knelt once more before him. She pulled the amulet from her bosom and placed it in his hand. “Aye, that’s a lovely trinket, lassie. Shall we sell it and buy ourselves some more ale?” 

“Don’t be daft, man!” said Cas, annoyed that she apparently had to start over. She continued, reciting her practiced lines, “This will show you your fortune and your future. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“Aye, dearie, perhaps after a bit of fun!” Malcolm giggled in his peculiar high-pitched manner, half pulling her onto his lap. 

“No!” she shouted, before recomposing herself. “No no, what’s the harm of seeing now? Maybe you’re the grandfather of a future king. Think of the glory! And the gold! Just close your eyes and concentrate this time, ok?” 

Malcolm looked at her seriously for a moment. “All right, lassie. If it means so much t’you, I’ll do it.” He clasped the amulet tightly in his hands, his eyes blinking closed. The visions started again, this time much more clearly. “I see...I see my laddie. He’s spinning, he’s spinning straw into gold…” his eyes flew open, “I knew it!” 

She shushed him, and folded one hand over his, the other covering his eyes. 

“Yes, yes, we’ve done that bit. What else, Malcolm, what else do you see?”

The man’s eyes shut tightly behind her hand. 

“I see...more spinning... A wife. A son... War...fear. Pain, so much pain. A cursed dagger. And…death. Oh, death, I see death, so much death, and the blackest of magic, and my Rumple, my Rumple, Gods help me, my Rumple!” 

The man shot up quickly, the amulet dropping to the floor. He was drenched with sweat, panting with exertion. 

“What did you do to me, you bloody woman?” 

“You son will be the Dark One. And the boy will be your undoing.”

“Get away from me, foul witch!” he spat, practically falling down the stairs as he ran from the small upstairs room. He slid down the last three steps on his arse, only to find his son waiting for him there. 

“Papa, you never came back! Did the barkeep pay you for the thread?”

Malcolm’s face blanched at the sight of his son, seeing the demon he’d seen him become written on the young man’s face. 

“Get away from me, foul vision! I know what you are, what you’ll grow up to be! Just stay away from me, Dark One! I cast thee out!” The man ran down the road in a state of hysteria. Rumplestiltskin ran after him, confused, hurt, and afraid. He chased the man to a stone bridge that ran over the stream that bordered the farmland where the sisters lived. “Papa!” Rumple called out. “Papa, please! PAPA!” Without saying a word, Malcolm climbed over the bridge and cast himself into the shallow water below. His limbs lay askew at ugly angles, and a steady stream of blood flowed from his temple into the water. Rumple knew without even rolling him over that his father was dead. He was totally alone in the world. 

Shocked, and still winded, Rumple walked slowly back to the tavern. He ignored the noisy drinking and the greeting from the barkeep. He marched up the steps, where he found Cas sitting on her bed where Malcolm sat not an hour ago. There was an amulet in her hand, glowing with magic and casting strange shadows in the room. She looked at the boy without seeing. 

“It has begun. And the cycle will continue through generations, through curses, through realms and portals, through love and loss and love again, until the boy is your undoing. Beware of Pan, child. Beware of Pan.”   
The boy ran down the stairs, through the crowd, out the door, past the waiting tree, down the road, over the bridge where his father lay dead below, and back to his pallet in the sheep shed. Hot tears burned his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop shaking. He clung onto the corn-husk dollie that his papa had made him before he could even walk, and wept until he fell into a dreamless sleep. Although it wasn’t dreamless for long.

 

Cas sat shock still on the bed, looking down at the amulet in her hands. She cast it onto the floor as if it had burnt her. She barely noticed the Shadow which had entered her open window. “So,” it hissed. “You have found your visions after all.” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” she challenged shakily. “ I know what you are. I know who you are.”

“So you do, Cassandra. But who will ever believe you?”

 

That night, Rumplestiltskin dreamed of the boy, the green boy from the forest. Somehow, the boy knew that his papa was dead. His heart felt something that was equal parts comfort and longing. 

“I know something about loss,” the boy told Rumple. “I know what is is to feel lost. Do you want to be found, Rumple? Do you want to make it real? Do you want to make me real?” 

“Oh, yes,” said the boy, hope shining in his eyes. 

“Well then, Rumplestiltskin, all you have to do is believe.”

Rumple woke with a start in the morning. He felt that something had somehow changed. He was more right than he knew. In the place where his dollie had lay last night, a translucent magic bean now sat on his pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma awoke to a flurry of activity going on around her. Her mother was nowhere to be seen (probably off hunting breakfast), but Neal and Hook were having a rather animated conversation with Tinkerbell (when had she arrived?), and her father was occupied fletching arrows for Mary-Margaret.. She stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and neck, and heard several vertebrae voicing their complaints. She asked of no one in particular, “Um, was anyone planning on waking me today?”

David rose from his pile of arrows to kiss his daughter lightly on the cheek. “We thought it was prudent to let you rest. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you sleep more than an hour since we left Hook’s ship. Between the lack of sleep and the lack of Granny’s coffee, I think we’re all going to go stark raving mad before long.”

“Did you have to mention coffee? I barely feel human without it. Or a hot shower. How did you survive without hot showers in the Enchanted Forest?”

“We managed, if only just. Ask your mother sometime about this lovely hot spring we used to visit regularly--”

There was a telltale rustle of leaves and twigs snapping as Mary-Margaret stalked back into camp, unceremoniously depositing two unskinned rabbits at her husband’s feet. She pointedly ignored David, choosing instead to address Emma with a, “Good morning, Sweetheart. “ She gave her daughter’s shoulder a fond squeeze before turning her back on David to join Hook, Neal, and Tink in conversation. 

“Wow,” Emma observed, “when she’s mad, she really goes whole hog, doesn’t she?”

“You have no idea. She’ll get over it--eventually--I hope. This is exactly why I didn’t tell her about the Dreamshade in the first place. We don’t need this kind of distraction. The focus has to be on Henry.” David picked up one of the rabbits and started to skin it with practiced ease with his pocket knife. Even after time spent with Mary-Margaret in the Enchanted Forest, Emma still had a hard time reconciling the pre-Curse version of the mild-mannered people she knew from Storybrooke with the scrappy survivors her long-lost parents revealed themselves to be once given the opportunity. She found it equal parts unsettling and awe-inspiring. 

Her father continued, “Speaking of distracting, what do you plan on doing with Hook?” Emma was fairly certain she turned beet-red. 

“Nothing! Not that I’m not a grown woman. And a parent,” Emma added, hiding her face in embarrassment. “Are we really having this little father-daughter chat now?”

David laughed. “I meant about his feelings, Emma. We’re stuck on the Island from Hell with a love-sick, one-handed pirate and the father of your child. And both of them are armed.”

She scrubbed her hands over her eyes, trying very hard to get the strangely appealing imagery of Neal and Hook in a duel over her out of her brain. “I can’t even think about this right now. Henry. We are here for Henry. We don’t have time for some macho pissing match to see who wins my hand like I’m some princess--” 

Her father interrupted, “Well, technically--”

Emma groaned loudly in frustration. “I have feelings for Hook, ok? And a part of me will always love Neal. But we can’t do this right now. Pan has us right where he wants us. Gold has been gone practically since we got here, God knows where Regina is, and now Mary-Margaret is giving you the silent treatment, and all of this stupid emotional bullshit is just one more thing I can’t deal with.” 

David put a tentative arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Do you want me to run them through? I know I haven’t had much opportunity to be a father to you. I could make up for lost time!” 

Emma found herself smiling reluctantly, leaning into her father’s hug. David kissed her hair and held her a little tighter. “I can tell you would have been a Daddy’s girl. And don’t you dare tell your mother I told you that.” 

“Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of them worked in companionable silence, getting the rabbits on to their makeshift spit to roast over the campfire. 

Hook sauntered over to join them, a cheeky grin on his face. “Guess what I have in my pocket, love?” 

Emma rolled her eyes at the innuendo. “Gee, Hook, I have no idea. But I’m guessing it’s not a fresh pot of black coffee.” 

“What, that tepid brown water they serve in your town? When we leave this cursed island with your boy in hand, I’ll show you a proper cup of coffee, lass.” Hook reached his hand into the deep pockets of his overcoat and retrieved a handful of small potatoes and several dirt-covered roots that looked like purple carrots. “My humble contribution to breakfast, m’lady!” 

“Not bad, Hook. Not bad.” Emma conceded, smiling brightly. Hook’s face lit up light a child who had received the highest praise from his favourite teacher. She found it almost disconcerting to keep catching glimpses of the man he must have once been under the pirate facade. Whoever Killian Jones was before he became Hook was coming out to play more and more frequently since they set foot on Neverland. Was she responsible for that? She watched him work in harmony with David, setting the roots to steam on fire-hot stones after wrapping them tightly in a soaked banana leaf. Her father certainly seemed to have gotten over the whole “pirate” thing. Emma supposed Hook saving his life probably had something to do with it. 

The smell of cooking food finally brought Neal, Tinkerbell, and Snow over to join them at the fire. Neal squatted down to warm his hands. “So, we have a tentative plan.” He met Hook’s questioning gaze before continuing, “Dark Hollow.” 

“Bloody hell, Neal! Are you mad? That’s Pan’s place of greatest power.” Emma saw Hook shudder involuntarily. If he was worried…

“And that’s why that’s where we must go, “ insisted Tinkerbell. “He’ll never see it coming. If we can reattach his Shadow, we can kill him. And if worse comes to worse, it’s our means to get off of this island.”

Emma’s eyes sought out her mother’s. “What do you think Mary-Margaret?”

The older woman considered for a moment. “It’s not a plan without risk, but it’s a risk worth taking if it improves our odds of getting Henry back. Plus, there’s strength in numbers. With us working together, how can we possibly fail?”

“Aye, that’s the question, isn’t it, m’lady?” said Hook.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re not him. I don’t understand how you can be so close to him, but not HIM.” Pan circled Baelfire, his tone accusatory and somehow hurt. 

“Him who? I don’t understand. Who are you looking for?” As much as Bae wished he was back in London with Wendy and her brothers, he couldn’t help feeling the sting of not being wanted again. Where did the playful Piper go, with his wild rumpus and magical music? And was his sacrifice all for nothing if the Shadow was just going to go back and grab John and Michael anyhow? 

“Your heart is so full of doubts, Baelfire. You’re broken, just like the rest of them. How can you possibly have the Heart of the Truest Believer? You’re probably a coward as well, just like your father.” 

Bae grabbed a nearby stick and lunged for the older boy, who somehow disappeared and reappeared behind him, only to hiss in his ear, “Well, perhaps not as cowardly as your father after all. But you’re not what’s wanted.” Pan shoved Bae away from him and stalked into the jungle, leaving the confused boy near tears. 

A figure emerged from the shadows, whistling low under his breath. “Well well well, Bae. I can see why your mother put some fire in your name. One doesn’t challenge Pan lightly in Neverland.”

It was the same boy who boarded Hook’s ship. Pan’s second. What was his name? Felix?

“So--what are we going to do with you, Baelfire? It’s obvious that Pan doesn’t want to play with you anymore. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” Felix smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Bae reluctantly followed the boy. He definitely didn’t trust him, but even his company was better than being left alone in the jungle. And he unquestionably needed an ally if he was going to make it off of this damned island and back to his adopted family in London. 

Felix led Bae deeper into the jungle, and the younger boy had to be mindful of branches that would snap back and strike him across his chest. They eventually came to a small clearing with a ladder leading up to what looked like a rough tree house. Felix whistled and a frizzy blonde-head popped out the window. 

“What do you want, Felix? I’m not about to babysit another one of Pan’s rejects.” 

“Now now, Tink. Don’t be like that.” Felix drawled. He threw an arm around Bae’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. “This one smells like destiny.”

The former fairy climbed down the ladder and stood toe to toe with Felix. “Is that a fact? And just what do you think our dear Peter will do to me this time if he finds out I have him here?” 

“Do you really think I’d let him harm so much as a hair on your head? Pan will get over his temper tantrum soon enough. And he’ll be grateful that you kept the boy from wandering into a patch of Dreamshade or getting eaten by a mermaid.” Felix kissed her cheek and his eyes sparkled mischieviously. “Oh, and you’d have my gratitude as well.”

Tinkerbell smiled despite yourself. “I’m not going to lie; your gratitude is rather fun.” She sighed deeply. “Fine. He stays. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any mischief.” 

“I owe you one, Tink!” Felix called over his shoulder, as he disappeared back into the jungle.

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Yeah, Felix, You really do.” She turned her attention back to the boy still standing before her. “So, what do they call you?”

“My name is Baelfire. Most people call me Bae.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Baelfire. My sincere apologies for Felix’s horrid manners. My name is Tinkerbell. Most people call me Tink. Are you hungry? I was just about to eat.” The boy hesitated for a moment, unsure of what his next move should be. Tink could sense his apprehension and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come on up, boy. I promise I won’t bite.” The fairy turned back to her ladder, and Bae followed dutifully behind. 

They stepped into a rather cheerful, if cluttered, single-room space. There was bric-a-brac covering practically every surface. Tinkerbell smiled ruefully, noticing Bae’s wide eyes. “Not much to look at, but it’s home.” She pulled out a second plate and mismatched silverware. Tink then spooned some vegetables over a cooked grain that Bae didn’t recognize. He realized he hadn’t eaten for what he guessed was well over 24 hours, and that, back on the Jolly Roger before Hook finally betrayed him to Felix and the Lost Boys. Bae accepted the plate and ate with a gusto he hadn’t felt since that first night he stumbled into Wendy Darling’s upstairs sitting room, and those first bites of warm stolen bread.

Once they had both eaten their fill, Tinkerbell took the plates and put them in a basin, then settled back down for a nice long chat. “So, young Baelfire, what brings you to Neverland?” 

“The same thing that brings everyone to Neverland, I guess. I let the Shadow take me.”

The young woman regarded him closely. “You let the Shadow? Why?” 

“My friend. Her family took me in when I was hungry and had no where else to go. The Shadow spoke to her and kept coming to her window. Finally, she let it take her to Neverland. I thought I’d never see her again. Pan kept her for a while, but he sent her back. Apparently, he didn’t want her either. He was looking for someone else, and threatened to come for her brothers. I couldn’t let magic tear another family apart, so I came in their place.”

“Ah, so you’re on a hero’s journey, then. And what’s to stop Pan from taking the boys now that you’re here?”

“I...that didn’t occur to me until after the fact.” 

Tinkerbell nodded sadly. “Wisdom often comes late. But that doesn’t make you less of a hero. Not many boys come to Pan willingly, and even those never come for selfless reasons. Usually, they just want to run away.” Bae must have given something away in his expression because she continued, sharply, “You did run away, didn’t you? Before you tried to help your friends. Who are you, Baelfire?”

“My father is the Dark One.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I've been sitting on this chapter for 5 months. I don't really know why. But I just marathoned 3B and my muse is talking to me again, so why not? Let's finish this thing! Maybe it's utter shite, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“Okay. So--Dark Hollow. What exactly are we supposed to do once we get there?” asked Emma. 

Neal scratched the back of his head, he and Tinkerbell sharing a brief look. “The Shadows are attracted to light like a moth to a flame. We should be able to suck Pan’s shadow into a lantern. That’s how I forced it to take me away from this place the first time. A captured shadow will do whatever you want it to, but only the once.”

Tinkerbell added, “I’m not going to lie. It’s a dark horrible place. You’ll feel like you’re losing your soul in there, and if you’re not careful, you might.”

Emma asked, “How will we know which one is Pan’s shadow? They all look alike to me.”

Hook placed a reassuring hand on her arm and gave her a light squeeze. “Trust me, love, you’ll know. Pan’s shadow is a right bastard, just like Himself.”

\---

The Lost Boys were on them almost at once. So much for the element of surprise. The cacophony of yips and wild calls made it almost impossible for Emma to hear her father’s shouted directions as he and Mary-Margaret moved to flank their attackers. In the melee, Emma lost sight of Neal and Tinkerbell, but Hook stayed firmly at her side, watching her back and shouting his encouragement. Emma was the first to admit that she was crap with a sword, but she hoped the fury she felt as she fought for her son would more than make up for her lack of technique. 

“That’s it, love! See how he’s protecting his right side? Hit him there again just like that.”

Emma smiled at the joyful tone in Hook’s voice as he took on multiple boys single-handedly. Literally. He was beautiful as he fought, totally in his element. She found herself thankful yet again that he put aside a lifetime of vengeance and came back to them, to her, to help her rescue her child. How many of them would be lost without him there? Her father would likely already be dead, the island with its deadly plants taking them all out without Pan lifting so much as a finger. Hook’s knowledge and skills were a godsend. 

More and more Lost Boys descended upon them, a never-fatiguing fresh supply. No sooner would she or Hook strike one down then three more would spring up in his place. Eventually, Emma found herself back-to-back with the leather-clad pirate, fighting for their lives as the boys pushed them ever closer to the tree line. Emma had long since lost sight of her parents. Grimy adolescents filled her vision, their non-stop battle cries bringing on a headache behind her eyes. Her sword arm was growing tired and her right shoulder and the middle of her back burned with the effort of keeping the poison-tipped weapons at bay. Even Hook was starting to show signs of fatigue. How long had they been at this? Minutes? Hours? Emma had lost all sense of time. It felt like she had been locked in battle her entire lifetime, everything else a dream. Her eyes started to glaze over and eventually she stood there, swaying unsteadily on her feet. 

Hook looked at her with growing alarm. “Emma, lass! Pick up your sword! Come on, love. You can do this!” Emma just stared into space, looking like she had lost all hope. “Swan? Swan!” He hooked her belt loop and pulled her bodily into the tree line, his sword aloft to ward off the advancing boys. Once into the shelter of the trees, the noise of the war whoops suddenly stopped, replaced by an eerie, unnatural silence. There wasn’t so much as a rustling leaf. The only sound was their laboured breathing. 

Emma finally shook off whatever dark magic had her in its grasp. “It looks like that’s another one I owe you, Hook. Thank you.” Still panting, she wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her pants. “Why didn’t they follow us into the trees?”

“I can only imagine it’s because Pan has us right where he wants us. Lady Bell may have thought he’d never expect us to try for his Shadow, but I feel certain we were herded here, like lambs for the slaughter.”

“Gee, that’s a comforting thought. How are we supposed to capture Pan’s shadow now? The lanterns are on the other side of the clearing with a plethora of Lost Boys. And no sign of anyone else. So much for strength in numbers.”

Hook gave her a small smile. “Courage, love. Pan has no idea who he’s up against. If there’s a way to capture his shadow, I have no doubts you’ll find it.”

Emma shook her head slightly, wondering how he could possibly have so much faith in her while all she could feel was the weight of her own doubt and past failures. “Do you really think so?”

He smiled in earnest now, taking her hand and kissing it before looking up at her with his too-bright blue eyes. “Does that surprise you? I have yet to see you fail.” 

She squeezed his hand, willing him to see in her eyes all that she couldn’t say, even to herself. No one had ever believed in her so unquestioningly before. It almost overwhelmed her. 

The moment was over too soon. The silence was shattered as a wild wind kicked up, its unearthly howl sounding like an oncoming train. Emma felt suddenly chilled to the bone. Her limbs grew heavy and the air felt almost too thick to breathe. The cold was such that she could barely feel Hook’s hand in her own. 

Twin shadows appeared, inky black, swallowing all of the light around them. One grabbed Hook like he was a rag doll and threw him against a tree. “Hook!” she cried helplessly as she watched his face contort in agony, the demonic form trying to rip Hook’s shadow from his body. The second Shadow engaged her, not fighting her so much as forcing her away from Hook and pinning her back into a small thicket. Emma drew her sword and slashed at the insubstantial form in vain. It began to laugh at her, an inhuman, ugly sound ringing in her ears. 

“Do you really think your pirate will save you this time?” it hissed, the sound seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Don’t doubt for a moment he will leave you. They always leave you, Emma. Every last one of them. Your parents, Baelfire, even your own son. Do you really think he’s different than all the others? Do you really think you can make him stay? You’re nobody, Emma Swan. Nobody at all. You’re nothing but a lost little girl, all alone in the big bad woods.”

Emma shuddered involuntarily, struggling not to internalize the sting of her worst fears vocalized so grotesquely by this...thing. She refused to look at the Shadow, and gulped deeply, trying to still her mind and somehow to collect herself. A bright star caught her eye through the thick canopy of trees, and she turned her chin to look up and wonder if it was perhaps her own sun, a million miles away. She focused all of her will on that tiny light, a small speck of twinkling hope in the thick, all-encompassing blackness of Dark Hollow. 

The Shadow turned to see what had drawn Emma’s attention. She could feel the anger roll off of it in waves as it caught sight of the light, marring its perfect darkness. Thick black clouds swirled toward her star, swallowing it up as it blanketed the entirety of the night sky. 

“See, Emma?” it howled in triumph. “ Even the stars have left you.” 

Stars? Stars! Emma suddenly remembered Neal’s coconut star map stashed in her satchel, which was mercifully still on her back. She fumbled for it blindly in the ever-growing dark, Hook’s anguished screams filling her ears and heart with dread. She was shaking like a leaf, but she found it and clung tight.

_“Magic is about emotion, dearie. You need to ask yourself, why am I doing this? Who am I protecting?”_

Gold’s words echoed in her memory. Emma felt the now-familiar weight of magic building up and filling her chest, Hook’s face held firmly (lovingly?) in her mind. She flicked her hand over the candle stump, a small flame sparking tentatively at first, then growing brighter and more steady despite the wind swirling around her. Emma rose slowly, surely, her fear starting to recede along with the darkness. 

The Shadow started to waver before being sucked into the flame. Emma brought down the lid with a loud clack, trapping the Shadow inside. The wind turned off like switch, dropping Hook unceremoniously to the ground with a thump. The black clouds dissolved, leaving a clear starry sky above. Emma took a deep shuddering breath and blew it out noisily. 

Hook looked up at her with wonder and unhidden adoration in his eyes. “You bloody, brilliant, amazing woman! That’s one I owe you! I told you I had yet to see you fail.” She offered him a hand to help pull him up, but instead he pulled her into a tight embrace. She tensed up for a heartbeat before allowing herself the luxury of just melting into his arms. Emma clung to him for dear life, just letting herself be held. He kissed her golden hair affectionately before releasing her. 

“That’s done, then, lass,” he said with a nod. “Let’s go find the others and go fetch your son.”

She took his hand, eyes still shining with emotion, and let him lead her out of Dark Hollow and back into the light.


End file.
